


Something You Love

by BourbonOnTheRocks



Series: In The Eerie Light Of My Sleepless Nights [4]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: 3.05 Fix-It, Angst, Did I mention toxic?, F/M, Feelings, Guilt, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Practical consequences of what happens when you spend hours uncomfortably sitting in the cold, Rio POV, S3 spoiler, Shower Sex, The things that quarantine make you do, Toxic Dynamics, Toxic Relationship, Vague Attempt To, Yes You Read It Well They Hug And It's Super Awkward, discussion of the past, emotional breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23190646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BourbonOnTheRocks/pseuds/BourbonOnTheRocks
Summary: "You don't kill something you love."ORWho would have bet on Dean's lucidity for once?Set during 3.05.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Series: In The Eerie Light Of My Sleepless Nights [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653067
Comments: 39
Kudos: 155





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. I'm confined at home for the next two weeks. If you're in quarantine too, hang in there!! ❤️❤️
> 
> May we and our loved ones all make it through covid19 crisis. 🙏🙏 But here's some positive news out of the slump: Guess who's got some extra free time to write now? 😊😊

"Nah... Not all of you."

The words were spinning in her head, along with the sounds of gunshots, two blinding flashes of light playing on a loop at the back of her retina. She'd been holding her sobs and tears for the whole ride home, trying not to collapse in front of Annie and Ruby. Back home she'd put her pajamas on and silently climbed in the bed, with Dean already asleep by her side.

But she couldn't sleep after this. Maybe ever. Even if she wasn't the one who pulled the trigger this time, she felt responsible for what had happened to Lucy. She _was_ responsible. And the fierce grip of guilt had sunk its claws in her heart with no possibility of coming back.

Shooting Rio had been rather traumatic. But it was nothing compared to this. Rio had, well... kind of asked for it, on some certain level. Despite the stratospheric amount of guilt she was still nourishing about what she did to him, she knew the _reasons_ behind her choice. And, all things considered, maybe she didn't feel _that much_ guilty now that she'd seen... what she'd seen.

Because Rio was one thing. But Lucy was innocent and sweet despite her weird outlines. She wasn't some crime lord whose death occupied a full paragraph in the list of potential workplace related injuries. And that was precisely what made it unbearable, this knowledge that she'd signed an innocent's death warrant, in spite of all the warnings she'd delivered to the poor girl.

With a sigh, she pulled the duvet away from her legs. She was too restless to stay in bed. She felt feverish, maybe even nauseous. She needed air. The digital alarm clock displayed half past three in the morning when she silently left the bedroom for the backyard.

She wasn't sure that she'd ever had a full night of sleep for the past decade. With four successive newborns, her nights had become endless cycles of waking up and going back to sleep. Then had come a couple of depressive episodes which usually left her with her eyes wide open in the darkness. And then the age of nightmares had started for Kenny, and his siblings had followed with perfect synchronization. And finally Rio had appeared in her life, filling her nights with sleepless terrors and exhausting worries.

So at this point, insomnia was basically a part of her DNA. She was used to it, used it to craft fake cash away from meddling eyes, it didn't alter her lucidity nor her awareness. 

Hence when she stepped outside, she wondered at first if her eyes, swollen from hours of restrained crying, weren't _seeing_ things. Because the feline silhouette currently sitting on the picnic table, hand wrapped around a golden gun catching fragments of moonlight, could only be an hallucination.

Rio raised his head at the sound of the backyard door closing behind her and for several seconds they both stayed still, staring at each other and assessing where they both stood. Or at least she did. She only assumed, from his expression, that there was some uncertainty on his side about her current state of mind.

Well, she'd make it crystal clear for him, then. She didn't want to see him. No tonight. Not ever. Things had gone too far, and she couldn't take the hurt anymore. Not to mention the shame and guilt leaking out from every pore of her skin.

"What do you want? If you came here to show off your victory you can leave now. I got it," she bitterly lashed out with all the hostility she could find in herself.

He popped a brow, almost amused with her turmoil, "Whatchu talkin' 'bout?"

She looked at him, breathless. She hated when he made fun of her and pretended not to see the elephant in the room. And this particular elephant was mercilessly stomping over her. The gates of her temper brutally collapsed under the weight of her rage.

"You killed Lucy! An innocent woman died because of me tonight!"

She shouted at him, completely indifferent to the fact that she might wake up Dean with her screams. For all she cared, he could go grab that shotgun in the garage and get finished with all of this. She shook her head.

"And I'm supposed to be okay with this? Am I supposed to _thank you_ for this?" she angrily asked again.

Rio was attentively staring at her, studying her almost, hands folded over his gun, and the look he'd specifically directed at her when he'd let out a proud _My girl_ for Lucy suddenly popped back in Beth's mind. A flash of pain which definitely felt very much like a broken heart ran across her chest.

She faltered, instantly suffocating under the weight of her guilt, and her diatribe ended in a choked sob while tears were falling freely from her eyes, "Why would you do this to me?"

He slowly climbed out of his sitting spot, taking a few steps on the lawn towards her but staying at fair distance. His jaw clenched and he inhaled deeply, as if trying to calm down in front of her sudden outburst.

"Oh you wanna talk 'bout what you did to me?"

There was a mean light in his eyes, and her chest heaved with furious sobs that she could barely keep in control at this unexpected gut punch.

"That's unfair. You forced me to do it! You put a fucking gun in my hand!" she protested, her voice distorted with desperate fury.

"Well I never asked you to shoot me with it!" he shouted back, and this time there was no trace of amusement anymore on his face, only pure, cold anger.

"You told me I was work!"

"Aren't you, Elizabeth? I thought you wanted to be a boss, yeah?" he harshly lectured her, and she could literally feel the sharp edges of his voice open bleeding cuts in her self-esteem.

"I—"

"And you ain't no boss if you keep 'em pretty hands of yours away from shit. That what you needed to learn tonight."

"This is not what happened, and you know it! You just wanted to prove a point. And you _killed_ someone for it!"

"Well, good thing that Mick's aim is better than yours, huh?"

The last one was too much. She could have taken any hit but not this. The pressure was raising inside of her, turning her into a human cooker ready to explode with every frustration she had absorbed ever since she'd met him, and suddenly she completely lost it. She jumped at him, pushing him backwards with her both hands over his chest while she was crying and yelling desperate and rather incoherent curses at him. He quickly managed to push her away, though, averting her fists and roughly grabbing her shoulders to send her a few steps back. She stood still for an instant, panting and a bit disoriented from the sudden jolt before she collapsed, slowly letting herself slide down on her knees in the middle of the lawn.

She didn't even have the strength to stand up anymore, and she didn't give a fuck that he'd witness her meltdown. She was past this. Months of repressed distress suddenly burst all together in her chest and she suffocated under the weight of a sorrow too big for her to absorb it alone. She was sobbing uncontrollably, her upper body almost convulsing from the violent snaps in her chest. She cried over Lucy's death, over shooting Rio, over her broken heart, over him calling her work, over giving up on him in her bedroom, over all the harm they had done to others and to themselves. Over her own loneliness in this world of darkness which was hers now.

She didn't even realize that Rio had come closer and crouched in front of her before she heard his soft, "Hey."

She slowly raised drowned eyes at him and tried to calm down a bit, sniffling and still panting heavily.

"Why? Why did you do this?" she whispered in a small voice, almost a prayer.

One of his fingers gently stroked her cheek, pushing a wet lock of hair behind her ear, and she shivered at the contact, lowering her gaze. The sudden change in his demeanor, his softness, were highly unsettling. But she didn't pull away.

"Was either her or you," he whispered.

She blinked. At the end of the day, the accuracy of Dean's epiphany was somehow upsetting.

"Right. And you don't kill something you love," she muttered under her breath.

"What?" he frowned.

She shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "Nothing."

She waited for a few silent seconds before she decided to let it all out. She couldn't go on like this anyway. And Rio hadn't said anything, he seemed to wait for whenever she would be ready. She took a deep breath, trying to control the echoing hiccups of her sobs.

"I'm so tired, of all of it. I mean... what will it be next? One of my kids gets to die because of me? Or you will wake up one morning and decide that you don't need me alive anymore, that I'm not worth it? Either you kill me or you don't, but I can't have my life hanging like this to your every mood switch. It's just... I can't take it anymore. It hurts too much. So... please make a decision."

Her voice broke in the very end and there was a long pause.

"Okay," he eventually replied in a dull whisper.

She timidly raised her head and met his eyes, simultaneously afraid and eager to read her fate in his expression. But there was nothing but sadness in his eyes, and she suddenly got overwhelmed with her need for a shoulder to cry on. His shoulder, obviously. Mainly because he was the only one there with her, though. And it didn't matter that he was the reason why she was crying in the first place. She shyly tilted her head in his direction.

"Do you mind if...?"

Her quite inexplicit behavior seemed to make sense to him because he sat down by her side and wrapped an arm around her shaking shoulders. Still crying a little, she clumsily nested her face in the crook of his neck, wrapping her arms around him in a weird configuration, and he ran a soothing thumb over the edge of her shoulder that the sliding sleeve of her robe had partially denuded. This was literally the awkwardest moment she'd ever shared with him, and he didn't exactly seem very comfortable with it either, but... She needed this. She needed him. Because even if he'd probably destroy her for good some day in his extremely inventive torturing games, she was finally admitting to herself that she couldn't bear a life which he wasn't a part of.

She stayed still in this quite uncomfortable embrace — her back wouldn't thank her on the next day — and she let her sobs gradually fade away. She could feel the beating of Rio's pulse against her mouth, and she slowly moved her lips over his skin, not really kissing it, but just... saying _Hi?_ He tilted his head in reaction until she felt his warm breath in the cold night — the night was _freezing_ , how come she hadn't noticed it earlier? — over the skin of her neck.

His shoulder suddenly shifted under her head, unburying her face from the warm shelter of his neck and he lightly pressed his mouth against her lips, almost experimentally. She straightened a little so they could have a better angle, his mouth chasing hers until he could kiss her again, tentatively at first but then hungrily when she kissed him back, and soon it turned into a feverish mess of tongues and teeth. Without interrupting the kiss, she climbed on his lap, her knees on both sides of his thighs, and he moaned appreciatively, his hands roaming her body with more ease.

She kissed him with a desperate fervor, as if she could exorcise all the harm they'd done to each other with it. The kiss was escalating quickly, their breaths getting hoarser and their hands more adventurous when Lucy's face suddenly popped up in Beth's mind, providing a human face to all the horrors standing between Rio and her that kept them apart. She tried to push the insisting memories away, tried to ignore the fact that they were both luring themselves in the nostalgia of something that had died the day she'd pulled a trigger on him, and been incinerated when he'd killed Lucy.

New tears fell from her eyes, and she hung on to Rio's kiss, to the warmth of his lips, to the feeling of his body against her, but it was too late for that, and soon she was moaning her sobs into his mouth with sharp little cries of despair. 

He pulled away as soon as he realized what was going on and he peered at her face with concern and anxiety.

"You want me to stop?"

She angrily shook her head, tears uninterruptedly rolling down her cheeks, "No, I don't. That's the fucking problem!"

He looked at her with confusion while she choked on her own sobs, and it took her a while to calm down until she could speak. She laid a hand on his collarbone, timidly tracing circles over his neck tattoo with one finger, and she focused her eyes on that hypnotic motion, unable to look him in the eyes. She sniffled.

"Dean said that you don't kill something you love," she tried to explain in a hoarse whisper, "And... and I didn't kill you."

The words lingered in the air around them for a while, and she knew that realization was slowly making its way to Rio's mind as he read between the lines of her half-admitted confession. She waited in silence. There was nothing to lose anymore. He'd managed to completely peel her off emotionally, removing layer after protective layer, until she was only a core of weak truth and broken heart.

He didn't say anything but she heard his breath change. With a deep exhale, he pulled her closer, his hand cupping her jaw and guiding her head until their foreheads were pressed together, their mouths close enough for them to breathe the same air. They stayed still for a very long time in this silent embrace, both shivering in the cold breeze, her breath shaky with the last sobs convulsing her chest and a soft feeling of unspoken obviousness.

At some point she thought that she'd heard him whisper, "Lucy's alive, ma."

But maybe it was just the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nah. I don't buy it. Rio didn't kill Lucy. Not because he's a good guy — he's not — but because shooting someone in a car is the dumbest thing to do in terms of biological evidences. Plus, how was Mick supposed to know who Rio wanted him to shoot just with one _look_? This was clearly a set-up. And it wouldn't be the first time that we have a fake death in this show anyway!  
> (shhh, let me live my dream... 🙉🙉)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got bored so I wrote some angsty Brio sex. Rio POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****[Next ep spoiler + general S3 spoiler but you're here so it means you already know that]*****
> 
> I guess I'm finally done processing my feelings after having endured two consecutive episodes of Beth-Dean bonding stuff (are we going to mention that divorce again? They told the kids, time out!) while Rio was doing his scary show...
> 
> So obviously I hadn't seen next episode's sneak peek yet when I wrote this, and I was finally out of my post ep5 Brio freak-out when I fell into another one... Beth and Rio FINALLY (vaguely) discussing last season finale? Rio showing that he's hurt and hurting her as a consequence?? Beth telling him that it was his fault (it was)??? 😱😱😱 I'm deceased... And I can't even go out for a run to push them out of my head. Fucking quarantine... 😭😭😭

The first lights of dawn were arising when he opened his eyes. Fuck, how long had he been sitting on the grass with her face against his? He was frozen to the bones, and judging from the way her teeth were rattling, her body shaking with powerful shivers between his hands, she was too. He shifted a bit with a groan, enough for her to emerge from her somnolence and slowly pull away. He looked at her face, and... yep. That was what he'd thought. Her lips were _blue_. She'd catch nothing but a fucking pneumonia from all this.

She climbed off his lap in the weirdest fucking possible way, just letting herself fall on one side and roll, and he shook his head in disbelief until he tried to get up himself. Right. Not to sound like a cad here, but the voluptuous hotness of her body came with a heavy price. A weight he'd loved to experience on top of him on one memorable afternoon, but still not a good idea when it came to spend hours at rest in the most uncomfortable position in the world, cutting off the blood flow in his legs. No shit, with the grass humidity which had infused the fabric of his jeans on top of that, he'd have sworn that his calves were literally _frozen_ now. Three minutes in the microwave and you're good to go. That kind of frozen. He couldn't even move no more. Now he got all her falling aside pathetic show. The articulations of her knees were probably paralyzed at the moment.

Eventually they both managed to get up on dumb legs and he stood still, facing her at arm length. She wasn't crying anymore but there was something weird in the way she was looking at him. She readjusted her robe over her shoulders with a shiver and she looked away, probably debating some nonsense with herself. Typical Elizabeth Boland shenanigan. But he didn't care, he could wait. He had time. With her he was past his usual vanishing in the shadow moves, now. He'd been soft with her. Multiple times. And she hadn't gotten it, so he'd been trying the rough way lately.

She deserved this. She'd fucking tried to kill him. And then she'd gone all chatty pal, sweet innocent suburban bitch, with his kid's ma, no less. He'd wanted to break a couple of things when he'd found out, when Rhea had told him 'bout that _friend mom from the park_. His nails had left marks in his palms. And he'd really meant to shut up that bitch for good after that, except... Except that he'd never thought that being a father again would ever be on the table for him, and that had made him feel... kinda weird. But he wasn't aware of _that_ until the moment she'd lost something he didn't even know he wanted.

And keeping her alive afterwards was no sentimental shit, nah, it was nothing but an investment. It wasn't a compliment on her good work when he'd granted her a life extension, though. There were flaws and failure all over her funny money process, and her distribution system was clearly full of liabilities. And, well, you couldn't expect anyone to bring that kind of business to perfection-level within only two months. But again. Two. Fucking. Months. What would she be capable of in six?

Also... Playing with her, tormenting her, it was fun. A special reward he was treating himself with. She'd asked for it the day she'd put three fucking bullets in him, and he wanted for her to feel the pain she'd put him through. With interest. Watching the shock on her face when Mick had pulled the trigger had been. Pure. Gold. He couldn't find it in himself to feel sorry for her, though. Not yet. Probably not ever. On the other hand he'd just spent the night sitting on a fucking wet lawn with her forehead against his, but... nah. Nuh huh. Unrelated.

Her eyes came back at him, vaguely expecting, and he was about to open his mouth when he realized that he didn't know what to say to her. He'd come here with a ferocious intent, eager to confront her, maybe enjoy her protests a little bit. Just like she always did whenever he gave her what she'd asked for. See, that was the problem with her, she kept asking for something that she had no fucking idea what it was. She had this stupid romantic idea of being a boss without having to handle the consequences of it, and he was done moping the floor behind her. So he'd showed up, hoping that this time the lesson was learned.

Except... Except that he hadn't planned _that_. Like, he knew she'd be distressed and all, but he'd expected to fight a wild spitting cat, all claws out and everything, but instead she'd just... given up. Collapsed in front of him. There was no fun in that. Victory was only sweet when you'd fought hard for it. It kinda had made him feel weird, seeing her like this. And it wasn't... no, actually, the problem wasn't about that. It was about her letting him _see_ it. That last one was kind of alarming from someone as pathologically proud as she could be.

And he still couldn't explain the impulse that had lead him to kiss her, and just thinking about it made him feel, well, he wished he could say sick. But that was the thing, he couldn't. It felt like every time he touched her, he entered that parallel dimension where things were different. He fucking didn't know in what way, though, but they just were, and then he had to snap back to reality. To a reality where he hated her, which made it even trickier.

Eventually she seemed to opt for a temporary truce offering. They were both shaking with cold, their clothes soaked with dew, and the minimal nod she gave him when she staggered towards the house was pretty clear. A civilized warming up offering. There wasn't anything personal here, though, Christ no. Oh, he knew that particular look she'd given him, the one he called her Martha Stewart look. The one she wore in her world for a bunch of hypocrites. It was kinda offensive that she gave it to him, all things considered. But still, he followed her inside.

He frowned when he clocked the birdcage on the kitchen island — okay, it was official, she'd gone nuts — but then she headed to her bedroom and he followed, oblivious and still trying to fathom this new birds mania. Jeez, his brain must have slowed down with the cold, because he was already in the middle of her bedroom when he realized that Carman was sleepin', like, _right there_. What the fuck? He hadn't signed for this. A few steps ahead of him, she silently opened the ensuite bathroom door, and he hesitated. He wasn't sure that she'd meant for him to follow her _everywhere_. Maybe she'd just allowed him to stay in the living room 'til he'd feel better. But right when he was about to step back, Carman let out a loud snore, and, that was just too good, man. Meh, he shrugged. Wouldna been the first time he followed her in a bathroom with hubby unaware on the other side of the wall. Talk 'bout resisting to _that_.

She locked the door behind them, but she didn't really pay attention to him. She was still paler than her usual, shivering, and he noticed how dumb her fingers were when she clumsily tried to strip off. He vaguely helped, trying not to watch, but hey, a quick glance had never killed nobody, right? She was still her smoking hot self, but nah. It wasn't his fucking business anymore to check on her body and get all those blooming seeds of desire as a consequence.

Except that when she stepped into the shower, she turned her head over her shoulder, giving him a _look_... Not the unwilling to be alone damsel in distress kind of look, nah, and definitely not the Martha Stewart one this time. To put it nicely, it wouldn't have sent a different message if she'd been pulling the bottom of her skirt up her waist in front of a bar bathroom basin. _That_ kind of look. And it wasn't... Like how... How was he even supposed to... In short, he followed her.

She turned the shower on while he was getting rid of his clothes in no time and at first they just warmed up under the powerful stream of hot water, not touching each other, not even looking at each other. She closed her eyes, probably to avoid meeting his by accident, and he couldn't tell if the water trails on her cheeks were the salty kind. He fought for a long time until he couldn't repress anymore his stupid need to push a lock of dripping hair out of her face. Her eyes fluttered open and she finally met his gaze with something stunned in her expression.

She reached for his mouth, outta nowhere. Not that it wasn't _obvious_ that it was coming ever since he'd stepped into this shower with her, but still, warnings were always appreciated. Maybe she needed a quick reminder of the elementary principles of consent. But... not now. Also he'd noticed that she'd avoided to stare at his chest this whole time, and for sure one day he would force her to look at what she'd done. But again. Not now.

Instead he cradled the nape of her neck with one hand to pull her against him and kiss her back with the same desperation she did. The sound of water dripping on the tiles was enough to cover the muffled gasps they were both letting out once in a while in response to an insistent tongue or a bruising finger. He felt like her hands were all over him, stroking the skin, palpating the muscles, pressing the flesh, and he couldn't stop exploring her body either, drawn to her by some magnetic force he couldn't explain and would curse later.

There was a sense of urgency in every move, in their shaky breaths and the groans they sucked in and didn't vocalize. Although he had to admit that the perspective of making her moan loudly so Carman would know what was happening there would have been appealing even a couple of months earlier. But he wasn't there for some shitty vaudeville anymore. _What_ he was there for was... another issue.

Cause kissing her was more thirst-quenching than water, more intoxicating than tequila, more heady than marijuana. Fucking parallel dimension thing. He hated how much he craved the feeling of her skin under his palms and her tongue in his mouth. He hated that fully naked as he was, he couldn't hide from her how hard she'd already made him.

He pushed her against the wall of the shower cubicle, feeling the jolting reaction of her body when the skin of her back met the cold tiles, but that didn't stop him from grinding into her and breathe in her whimpers. She lifted one leg, wrapping herself around his waist, but it wouldn't be enough to compensate their height difference, so he grabbed the back of her knee for leverage before he lifted her, enjoying the wetness of her skin that freely slid against his.

She braced herself on his shoulders and he delicately rubbed her folds with the tip of his cock before he aligned himself with her, waiting for a confirmative nod that she gave him almost instantly. He pressed deep inside of her and she bent her head back against the wall with a hoarse gasp, her nails sinking into his scalp while he buried his face in her cleavage, licking and kissing the soft skin.

He could tell that she was refraining herself from giving a loud response to his every — and even slightest — move inside of her, but the way she pressed her heels in his lower back and her fingers in the flesh of his shoulders was saying it for her. He playfully bit her chin, adding some more stimulation to her arousal, and this time she couldn't repress a very satisfactory choked whine.

She used a different strategy when she came, though, tricking him into a kiss right before so she could pour her moans in his mouth for him to swallow them. And those specific sharp muffled sounds, along with the feeling of her, trembling and clenching around his cock, going limp in his arms, it, well... kinda triggered his own pleasure to an extent he had not anticipated. He groaned in her mouth, burying himself deep inside of her, and they stayed still for a couple of minutes, lips against lips despite their heavy panting.

He was short of breath when he carefully let her go back to the ground, clearly more than he would have been a few months prior. Well, try to have sex against a wall with one lung only reaching half of its capacity anymore! Anger overwhelmed him for an instant and _there_ it was. The fucking snap back to reality. All he wanted now was getting the furthest away possible from her. She was avoiding his looks too, and after an awkward cleaning and drying moment — good thing that the shower was _right there_ though — she unlocked the door with a warning look. Right. Carman. He bit his lips with annoyance but he let her get out alone.

"You're up already?"

Even muffled through the bathroom door, he could recognize Carman's stupid voice.

"It's just the daylight. I couldn't fall back asleep. Can you wake up the kids while I'll make breakfast?" he heard her ask with what he called her baby doll voice. She was probably wearing her fucking Martha Stewart look too.

"Sure."

What an idiot. He counted to ten, making sure that Carman would be up and gone when he'd get out. The bedroom was empty, except for her, standing in the door frame. He headed to the French doors without looking at her, but he could feel her eyes in his back, burning fucking holes and whatnot. Right before he stepped outside, he turned his head, met her gaze.

They hadn't even pronounced a word ever since she'd said that stupid stuff 'bout killing the things you love in the backyard. Bullshit. There was nothing even remotely similar to _love_ — ew — in anything they'd ever done. Although there was a strange vibe there that he couldn't fathom, couldn't tell if it was the end or a new beginning. But nah, this was definitely a farewell, it couldn't be otherwise. There was _hurt_ in her eyes. And unforgiveness. Deep down it didn't matter whether he'd killed that weird designer chick or not. The _intent_ was the same. Hurtful, shaming, humiliating. He swallowed.

He didn't look back when he left. They both knew it was the last time.

'Til next time. 

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're a mess. I'm a mess.🙈🙈
> 
> Also, I've been rethinking this whole Lucy thing, and now I don't really know where my mind's at, so that's why even if it's a Rio POV, I kept this pretty vague so the conclusion about this is quite open. Feel free to interpret it in the way that you're the most cool with. 😘😘😘


End file.
